


To Lift You When You Fall

by Primarina (PastelBrachypelma)



Series: Give Me the Music [2]
Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drugs, Friends to Lovers, Gang Violence, Gangs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Multi, Murder, Recreational Drug Use, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/pseuds/Primarina
Summary: Don't slam the door on your way out, darling.





	1. Frayed Ends

Immigration was sniffing around. Signe’s green card had expired while she’d been recovering in the hospital, and it was dangerous for her to be in L.A. Jack had begged Dan to take Signe with him, so she could continue her recovery away from the bustle of the dangerous city. Dan had agreed, but only if Jack would be his personal line to the city.

So that was how it was. Signe, who was mostly recovered from the car accident, just with limited mobility in her right arm, and numbness in her left shoulder, looked after Princess Tinkles while Dan recovered.

The drug lord’s country estate was like something out of a British period drama. The house was large and beautiful, cream-colored instead of a blinding white, with a marble staircase leading up to the ornate front door decorated with a gold Star of David. There was a sprawling back lawn with an orchard tended by a dozen gardeners, which produced fresh apples during the fall. It was during the last of the apples that Dan came here to recover, weakened from drug use and the events that had followed the death of the murderer known as Jon.

“You still have a fever,” Fossil scolded, removing the thermometer from Dan’s mouth and busily cleaning it off with a sterile napkin. “And you’re still underweight by at least eighty pounds. Are you eating enough? What is the staff feeding you?” She clicked her tongue.

Fossil was one of Suzy’s girls, called that because she acted much older than she was at times. But she was a trained and qualified nurse, and often took care of the girls when they were ill. Suzy had sent her along with Dan, because this retreat saw him in the worst condition he’d ever been in since moving to California.

“I’m trying,” Dan replied somewhat petulantly. “It’s been hard without the weed to encourage my appetite. If the food is too rich, I have to give up after just a few bites, and if it’s too bland, I just get bored and abandon it.”

“You’re still not hungry?” Fossil frowned.

Dan sighed, closing his eyes. “I am. Food is all I can think about, until it’s in front of me.” He pulled the blankets up to his chin, shivering. “I want something sweet and warm…like a brownie.”

Fossil ran her hand gently through his hair. “I’ll tell the cooks.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead and stood up, stretching. “Are you okay with the window open here?”

Dan nodded. “Yes. I like the breeze. It’s relaxing.”

“Okay, sweetie,” Fossil replied gently, fixing his covers. “I’ll be right back with the food.”

Dan nodded, relaxing back into his pillows. The ornate bed was sat in the corner, next to a large window, whose panels could be opened individually. He had most of them open, giving him a taste of the gentle breeze while he was bedridden. His body still ached from the withdrawal symptoms, which seemed to fatigue him more strongly the older he got. But he had a nice view of the orchard and the lawn, watching Signe run around with Princess Tinkles, laughing and enjoying herself. 

Dan smiled. He deserved this rest. 

~

Jack was preparing his report when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Jack said without looking up. He was sitting in Sexbang’s office, so he was used to getting visits from the dealers, providing updates on the drug lord’s empire, but he wasn’t expecting the person he saw at the door.

Arin, the boss of the West, looked flustered and hot. He was dressed casually in joggers and a black tee shirt, and he was holding a bouquet of red roses. He seemed upset to find Jack. “Dan’s not back yet?” He asked, his voice forlorn.

“No,” Jack shook his head, unsure of how much he should say. Fossil had estimated that his boss needed another month at least, if not more, to rest up, gain weight, and mentally prepare for his duties as a drug lord. He knew that Dan and Arin had…something…going on, as Arin was on the list of those allowed to visit Dan’s country estate whenever they pleased, a list which contained only a few names, but he figured it was better for Dan to explain the situation himself. “Are ya lookin fer ‘im?”

Arin nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I need to speak to him. It’s important.”

“Well, Ah’m about to go down and see ‘im,” Jack said. “Yer welcome ta tag along, if ya want.”

Arin’s face lit up. “That would be great. Thank you.”

~

Dan’s chef had managed to make him the best zucchini brownie ever. It had soft, thick icing that stuck to the roof of his mouth, and insides delectably creamy and warm. It had been rather sizable as well, but he’d managed to eat all of it—a first for this recovery period—and it sat warm and heavy in his stomach, making him feel sleepy. 

He was in the middle of a light nap when the front door opened and Jack poked his head around the corner. His green locks were fading, since he had no time to re-dye them, and he looked tired. “Sorry to wake ya up, Boss,” he apologized sincerely, “but ya have a visitor.”

Dan pushed himself up weakly, folding his arms in his lap. “All right, send them in. Signe is out back, if you’d like to see her.”  
Jack smiled. “Thank ya.” He disappeared, and then Arin opened the door.

The gang leader winced as he saw Dan in person. The drug lord was pale and drawn, his hair greasy and unwashed, his face and body wasted away. He looked sicker than Arin had expected him to look. 

And he didn’t look pleased to see him.

“Danny…”

“What do you want?” Dan’s voice was hard and cold, his body rigid.

Arin shuffled his feet. “I brought you flowers.”

Dan stared him down. “Is that all?”

“Dan…” Arin began. “I want to know…”

“If we can still be in a relationship?” Dan snapped. 

Arin swallowed, nodding. “I—I’m sorry, for what happened…I don’t know what came over me…”

“I don’t want to hear your empty words,” The drug lord replied, looking away. His fingers were tracing a pattern on the comforter around his waist. “You hurt me.” He said quietly.

“I…I know,” Arin thumbed at one of the roses, feeling the soft, velvety petals. “Can we move on?”

Dan sighed. “I need to be able to trust you. You haven’t shown me that I can.”

“But…I love you! Isn’t that enough?!” Arin shouted.

“No.”

“Why not?!” Arin threw down the roses. “Is it because I’m not some…some girl you can just fuck whenever?! Is it because I’m fat? Ugly? What?” He began to shake with all the emotions. “Why can’t love be enough?”

“Because love isn’t just words,” Dan replied. “Until you learn that…” He shrugged. “I can’t be involved with you.”

“Fuck you.” 

The drug lord’s head shot up. “What…?”

“Fuck you!” Arin sobbed. “Go and fuck the girls, then! See if I care!”

“Stop yelling at me.”

“Why?” Arin scrubbed his eyes with his fist. “I said I was sorry! Why isn’t that enough for you?!”

“I told you. Love is more than words.” Dan sunk down into the bed, rolling onto his side. “Get out.”

Arin sniffled. “Danny…”

“Leave!” Dan yelled, his voice cracking.

Arin bit his lip, kicked the roses across the floor, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Dan curled up in a ball and began to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmMMMMmmmmm here we go again, folks! The sequel literally no one asked for, but it's here anyway!
> 
> I had so many good ideas, but on paper, they're kinda shitty. So, uh...don't let this discourage you from reading the third book. Or the good parts of this book.
> 
> I promise it gets better.


	2. I'm Not Like Them

Arin pulled Dan’s lanky body towards him in the darkness, feeling the older man shudder as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against the prominent knobs on his spine. His hand wandered down Dan’s chest, tweaking sensitive nipples, patting his belly, pulling his tantalizing ass closer so Arin could grind his half-hard dick against his underwear.

Dan cried out as Arin bit into his neck, nearly sobbing, his body thrashing. “Arin…”

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Arin growled. “Waiting to be taken.” He didn’t get any verbal response, but then again, Dan hadn’t told him to stop, was still grinding back into him.

He’d been reluctant at first to take Dan home with him, because Dan was still weakened by, well…Arin wasn’t quite sure what exactly was wrong with the East Side’s boss. Dan called it a “sickness.” That was all Arin knew.

It was a sickness that made him smell like weed, made his bones poke out from beneath his olive-tone skin. 

The lines were beginning to blur just a little. Arin got Dan onto his back, kissing him deep, his tongue down the skinny man’s throat, one arm pinning him to the bed as the other began to fumble at his waistband. Sure he was being a little rough, but he knew what he was doing. This wasn’t his first rodeo, after all.

He may have gotten way too into it. Arin remembered dirty talk falling from his lips, as he was manhandling Dan.

And then…

Dan grabbed his hand. “Stop.”

“Why?” Arin leaned back in to kiss him. “C’mon, baby. You know you love it.”

“You’re hurting me! Stop holding me down!”

Arin huffed out a breath. “Just relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

He forgot that Dan could be quick when he wanted to be.

In half a second, Dan had him by the hair, pulling back his head by the loose ponytail, tilting it back until his neck began to hurt. One foot was pressed into the meat of Arin’s shoulder. “Let go of me,” Dan growled.

Arin, not having much of a choice, did so.

Dan sat up, clearly dizzy, and began reaching for his clothes. Arin didn’t understand. After all, Dan was still hard.

“Come back to bed,” Arin coaxed, reaching out to run a hand down Dan’s spine, feeling the goosebumps rise up in the wake of his fingertips. “Stay with me. You have to finish what you started.”

Dan froze. “Stop talking like that.” He turned to look at Arin, his eyes hazy, but still cold all of a sudden. “I work with prostitutes, Arin. I know what it’s like to be treated like a whore.”

Arin’s breath caught in his throat. “Dan…come on…!”

“If that’s what you think of me,” Dan began, standing up and pulling his leather jacket protectively around him, “if you just think I’m easy, then…”

“Danny…I don’t! Please come back!”

Dan sighed shakily, pushing his hair back behind his shoulders. “I never should have come here.” His voice seemed to crack. “I can’t be hurt like this. Not again.”

“Dan!” Arin got up, trying to go after him, but Dan had already bolted, as quick as a spider and just as silent. 

The last sound Arin heard was the front door slamming shut.

Dan went away after that, and he did not try to contact Arin.

It took the gangster a while to understand where he went wrong. He was so new to having a sexual experience with someone who wasn’t paid to be by his side.

He was used to…whores. And he had never been particularly courteous towards them, he supposed. They were there to get his rocks off. They weren’t someone he loved. 

They weren’t…whatever it was he and Danny could have been.

Arin had fucked up.

“Damn it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole concept looked so much better in my head.
> 
> Ugh. Why do I feel like this sequel is going to be such crap? I need to actually sit down and do some outlining, methinks. *sigh*


	3. Red Lips and Rosy Cheeks

Arin was still fuming out by the car when Septic reappeared. The gang leader tugged out his ponytail, absently redoing it. The breeze was nice here, but it was starting to get hot as the sun climbed higher into the sky. That, and he was also getting hungry, which was almost intolerable. He glanced at Septic, who looked worn down. Here was this kid, barely even in his twenties, responsible for Dan’s drug empire. Why had Dan picked him? Why not the mysterious Ninja, whom he had learned some time ago was called Brian?

He wasn’t on a first-name basis with most of Dan’s friends and dealers, but he could live with that. It was a pain to remember names, anyway.

Septic walked to the car. “Ya guys have a fight?”

Arin bristled. “How did you know?!”

Septic chuckled. “Tha dropped roses weren’t exactly subtle.” He looked up fearlessly into Arin’s eyes, the light color of them seeming washed out in the sunshine. “An’ it’s not hard to figure out somethin’s goin on between ya. Yer the only name Ah don’t recognize on a small list of tha folks allowed out here. Ah’m only allowed ta come here ta give the reports!” He crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow.

Arin deflated. “…We did have a fight, yes. I fucked up before he left, and now, he won’t hear my apology.”

Septic opened the door to the car and climbed in, leaving Arin to follow suit. The young man gave some vague directions to the driver and buckled his seatbelt. “Tha Boss is a hard one ta puzzle out,” he admitted. “Tha thing is, ‘e was with Little Bird until she got with Black Magic, an’ nothin serious since.” Septic leaned back. “Tried it on with me once, but I was already with mah girl. ‘S the only way I figured out ‘e was bi. Not that I wasn’t flattered, or anythin,” he added.

Arin nodded thoughtfully. Yeah, that made sense in his mind. Dan seemed like he’d been too busy to really form a relationship. The sex on the side was probably more work than pleasure. “I want to fix things,” he said honestly. “I do love him. But I don’t know how to prove to him that I do.”

“Ah gather ‘e’s fond of romance.” Septic replied, smiling. “When Ah first told ‘im about Signe—mah girl, that is—‘e sent a bouquet of roses to ‘er doorstep for Valentine’s Day an’ said they were from me. All cause Ah told ‘im Ah’d been dealin, and hadn’t had tha time to do a present for ‘er.”

Arin smiled fondly. “Yep. That sounds like him.”

Septic nodded. “’E’s a sweet bloke. Really. Ah know Ah still owe him a thousand for tha time Ah wasn’t dealin, but ‘e doesn’t press me. Course,” he said thoughtfully, “’e’s not like that with everyone. Still acts tough around the newbies.”

Arin sighed, looking back towards the big house as it faded away, thinking of the frail man closed away inside. 

He got the feeling someone had hurt Dan before. And he was willing to do some emotional labor to find out who.


	4. Duck

All in all, Duck lived a pretty good life.

He got to smoke weed whenever he wanted, an endless supply he was supposed to be dealing for the infamous Boss Sexbang, but whatever. The Boss still got paid. It didn’t matter if that money came from Duck’s parents’ pockets, now did it?

He also got to live off the grid, which was perfect. He hated society, always had. But nature? Nature was something he could totally get behind. He had his little log cabin in the woods, with basic cable, a DVD player, black and white horror movies from the fifties, and all the Kraft macaroni and cheese he could stomach. Oh, and all the weed he could possibly smoke, and more. Which was pretty rad, all things considered.

He was strolling along, listening to his favorite playlist, humming to himself, his favorite path under his feet. It was late in the evening, and still warm from the heat of the day, but he didn’t mind. Duck inhaled from his blunt and blew out the smoke through his teeth, watching it dissipate into the beautiful sorbet-colored sky. Perfect.

The path was along some old railroad tracks from the industrial age. They were long forgotten, overgrown with plant life, and not many Californians would choose to go into uncharted wilderness without at least three bars of service, so Duck was comfortable enough being alone. So he was surprised when he heard a voice, repeatedly calling his name. It was hard to ear with his headphones on, of course, but he could just hear it between song changes.

Duck slipped his headphones off and brushed away his unkempt hair, peering down the tracks. He could just make out four figures rushing towards him, though he couldn’t really see any of them.

“Hey!” A gruff voice seemed to overpower the calm evening. He was able to speak without breathing heavily, which was weird. Duck considered himself to be in decent shape, but even he couldn’t speak perfectly while running. “Hey! Are you Duck, by any chance?” The entourage stopped, still some distance away from him. Duck still couldn’t see anything.

“Yeah?” Duck called back. 

“Do you work for a man known as Sexbang?”

Oh. Duck breathed out a sigh of relief and began to walk forward. Okay, this must be Sexbang’s cronies. Maybe he’d forgotten to make a payment or something. “Yes sir, I do.”

“Perfect.” The voice seemed to turn from friendly to dangerous. 

Before Duck could even turn to run, the gun shot rang out through the trees.

If a body falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear, does it make a sound?


	5. The Return of the King

Jack was sitting at Dan’s desk back in L.A., his head in his hands, fingers massaging at his temples. Well, it was less a “massage” and more “nearly clawing his eyes out.” Before him, Brian was pacing back and forth, and Ross was perched uneasily on the edge of the loveseat in the room. Jack was thankful for the thick carpeting in the office; otherwise, the sound of Brian’s combat boots would have been deafening.

“I don’t like this,” Brian growled. “It all feels way too perfect.”

Ross frowned, spreading the police file on Duck’s death around the coffee table. “All I know is that one of our dealers is dead. It could be a coincidence.”

Brian stopped pacing, only to stop his foot loud enough to make Ross jump. “Fossil said during our last meeting that he needs more time, dammit! He’s barely managed to gain five pounds! Bringing him back to L.A. this soon, to address a small death, is ludicrous!” The older man was fuming. If he had been in a cartoon, steam would’ve been coming out of his ears, and his face would’ve been fire engine red. Ross looked suitably frightened. Jack just looked exhausted.

“We were running out of options,” he finally said. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did fine, Jack.”

All heads turned towards the familiar voice. Dan was leaning against the doorframe, looking pale and thin enough for it to be worrying even to the untrained eye. His dark curls looked matted, his skin had a sort of grayish tint to it, the bones in his face and neck standing out for the world to see. Despite the warmer weather, he was dressed in a navy track jacket with fancy gold brocade adorning the arms, a black Led Zeppelin tee, and his usual ripped jeans, so ill-fitting now that the tops of his boxers could be seen. Princess was seated beside him, wagging her tail happily. As Dan walked into the room, steps as measured as if he was performing a ballet routine, she got up to follow him, trotting along a few steps behind.

Jack clamored to get out of the high-backed chair, and Ross stood up to follow behind Princess with the file in hand. Brian slid into position on Dan’s left, while Jack closed the door and Ross sat down in the chair seated across from the desk. Dan seated himself, waiting patiently for Jack to be seated in the chair next to Ross before continuing.

“I’m glad that you called me.” He smiled kindly at Jack, and threw a cautionary glance at Brian, who was quietly fuming. This was not the time for small squabbles. “It’s not on anyone but me to deal with deaths in the family. I couldn’t ask any of you to take responsibility for that.” He pushed his curls aside absently and flicked through the crime scene photos. 

“But hits aren’t uncommon,” Brian pointed out. “And Ross had trouble with some of his E dealers dueling each other with kitchen knives, of all things.”

“And we lost Kaz to a knife fight with Diaz last year,” Ross added. “That wasn’t anything to do with you, Boss. It was just a territory squabble.”

“Mm, true,” Dan conceded. “But I can’t help blaming myself, wondering if I should make myself more approachable to the underlings. They should be able to rely on me to solve problems for them. I never wanted to lose Kaz, and Diaz’s move to weed dealing, while necessary, was something I wished I hadn’t done.” His eyes were still glued to the photos, though his mind was still foggy. He’d been fast asleep upon receiving the call to return to the city that morning, and the long car ride had turned the remainder of his appetite to mush. Even so, he could feel the hunger waiting to strike just when it would be least convenient. 

“The point is,” Brian chimed in, his voice taking on a tone of parental authority, “Duck’s death could be something like that. Maybe he stole a regular from someone.”

Dan shook his head. “No, it doesn’t add up. Duck kept himself pretty isolated, and was a heavy smoker. I doubt he was selling so much as buying.” He was about to gloss over another picture when something about the image caught his eye. 

The photo was clearly meant to focus on part of the corpse, but in the background, Dan thought he could make out a plant that seemed weirdly out of place for the terrain. After peering at it, he handed it across to Ross and Jack. “Take a look at that, guys. Whaddya make of that plant in the back?”

“Erm,” Jack scratched the side of his head, frowning. “Ah don’t see anythin. Bunch o’ green ‘n purple.”

Ross nodded. “Same.” He handed the picture back. “What’s so special about a bush, anyway? Did you lose your mind on the way back home?”

Dan ignored the comment, handing the picture to Brian. “I’d say that looks like a butterfly bush to me.”

“Shit, I think you’re right,” Brian solemnly handed the picture back to Dan.

Jack and Ross looked at each other in confusion. “Boss…” Ross leaned forward. “I don’t understand. What’s a bush got to do with Duck’s death?”

“So much for a restful return home,” Dan sat back in his chair, throwing the photograph back at the file. “We’re looking at a calculated hit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's a Lord of the Rings reference.
> 
> Yes, I know I'm a lame nerd.
> 
> Yes, I know it's been a while since the last upload to this story. I'm sorry. Life has been busy, and I lost the muse for a while.
> 
> Hopefully, she stays with me this time.


	6. Roses for Danny

Arin didn’t know how to be romantic anymore.

He’d stopped worrying about it when it became easier to pay for sex, or to use his power and position as leverage in the matters of love. It was easy to push around someone who was paid to be there, who was consenting but afraid.

Now that he had to deal with an actual lover who wanted actual romance, he felt out of his depth. How had being friends with Jon for so many years made him so clumsy?

Maybe Jon wasn’t even to blame. His own ignorance surely must’ve played a part. 

He’d had a lot of time since being rejected at Dan’s country home to think about his attraction to the older man. He desired Dan’s body, sure. It was lean, dotted with veins, with prominent ribs and spine and a flat stomach. It went on for miles, a beautiful olive-tone, so different than his own pudgy body.

He’d been working on that, working on eating healthier, getting more muscular. Not for Dan. Or so he told himself.

In reality, he felt a bit like a bird trying to attract a mate. He had to be more colorful, so to speak, to get Dan’s attention. Being stronger, healthier, more muscular…those were things he admired in Brian the assassin. Brian was a lot of things Arin could never be; ruthless, calculating, quick. Arin would settle for looking strong, dependable, and being smart and loving.

He felt those were things that Dan desired most.

It was odd. This was the first time he’d wanted to impress a lover in…a long time. He hadn’t felt this need to show off his mate potential to anyone since his crush on Jon. Then, he’d wanted to be an angry, careless gang boss. Someone who could intimidate and threaten anyone who stood in his way. That was the kind of man Jon wanted.

But Jon hadn’t wanted a man at all. Septic said Dan was bisexual. Maybe Dan wanted Arin, too.

No, he did. He did want Arin. He wouldn’t have let Arin anywhere near him if he didn’t. Dan was a very private person by nature. Arin had come to see and value that. Hiding in the shadows had its perks, just like being an open crime lord had its perks.

~

Arin was in his office when he was startled by his phone buzzing noisily at his desk. With a lazy grunt, he pushed away the information on an arms deal he was working on and pulled his encrypted cell phone towards him. Like most of his personal possessions, it was pink, and the sun shining on it cast a pink glow on the table in front of him. 

Arin opened the text. It wasn’t a number he recognized.

Text: Dan is back, in case you’d like to make amends.

Arin’s stomach fluttered like a bird was landing inside of him, but he swallowed his optimism and forced himself to take a step back. This could be a trick, to try and draw him out of his building.

Text: Who is this?

The phone buzzed in his hand.

Text: Don’t make me regret this.

Arin clumsily navigated his way to calling the mysterious number. Once he heard the phone stop ringing, he immediately began shouting down the line: “Who is this? Hello? What do you mean by that? HELLO?!”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get a response, Arin hung up and tossed his phone onto the desk, letting out a sigh. He dipped his head, grumbling to himself as he ran his hands through his hair repeatedly.

He could trust the information, or simply let it go. If he chose to trust the information, he could try and communicate with Dan, try to reconcile in the right way. He could romance Dan; take him out to eat in a fancy, candlelit restaurant, walk around the west side under streetlamps, kiss under the soft glow of a neon sign. 

If he cast it away as false information…he’d be waiting for some time. Dan hadn’t specified how long he needed to go away, but judging from how ill he had looked when Arin last saw him, it could be weeks before his return.

But whoever had relayed the information had referred to Dan by his actual name. It had to be someone in Dan’s intimate crew. No one else was permitted to know his true identity.

It could be Septic, though it wasn’t in Septic’s mannerisms to be so menacing. Though Arin didn’t know the kid very well, from what he’d seen, Septic was warm, energetic, loud, and a touch naïve. It didn’t seem like the type of text he would send.

Arin sighed, staring blankly at the pink sofa in the corner of his office. It was Victorian in style, with white wood trim and pink satin stretched across buttery soft cushions. He got lost tracing the seams towards the buttons as he debated what to do. The obvious romantic gesture was flowers and chocolate.

How grotesquely cliché. 

Still, Arin found himself on his way to his car. He’d taken out his hot pink Lamborghini today. It was a car he’d had customized to his exact specifications; heated seats made out of Sherpa, more legroom in the back seat for storage, and, of course, the color. It wasn’t exactly a stealth vehicle, and he was one-hundred percent certain that if Dan saw it, he would roll his eyes so hard, he’d see into space.

Arin started the car up, listening to the engine purr while he mentally performed some calculations. He knew of a family-owned gourmet chocolate shop a few miles from here, and there was a florist’s shop just before the border that separated the west from the east. Perfect…except that the florist’s shop closed in exactly ten minutes. Arin needed to speed in order to get there.

Now, Arin had done a few street races in his time, but the wild, densely populated streets of LA were nothing like the abandoned stretches of road in Margate, Florida, where he grew up. He had to be much more careful navigating these streets. Luckily for him, the Lambo turned on a dime. Weaving through traffic in his bright pink car, Arin thought about what kind of flowers he would get for Dan.

It had to be something more unique than just the plain, ordinary red roses. After all, he had to show that he was trying, didn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD! Yay!
> 
> A quick note: I know that Sean and Signe broke up irl, but at least for now, they'll still be together for the sake of the story's plot. This is not meant to be hurtful or disrespectful towards either one of them, and this is not meant as a wish that they should get back together. This is simply for the sake of the story's continuity, and is not meant to be a commentary on real life events.
> 
> *posts confidently to the void*


	7. Fragments

The room around Dan was silent for a long time. Brian’s sharp movement of checking his phone seemed much more violent in the stillness of the air around them.

Finally, Ross spoke up. “You think Duck was…?”

“Murdered, yes,” Dan replied, setting the file folder down with a light thud. “I’m afraid…” He hesitated. “I think it’s my fault.”

Jack sat up straight abruptly. “That’s ridiculous!” He spat. “Yeh didn’t kill ‘im!”

Dan smirked joylessly. “My finger didn’t pull the trigger. But if I’m correct, our murderer knows us—knows me—very well.” His face fell as he looked over at Brian, whose worry seemed suddenly reflected. “Is it time, Bri? Do we tell them?”

Ross and Jack shared an uneasy glance before turning to Dan with morbid curiosity. The drug lord massaged his temples, though whether it was out of reluctance to tell the story or some attempt to draw focus back to the here and now was unclear. Under the desk, Princess whined and placed her big head on Dan’s knee. Dan scratched behind her ears absently, looking more into her eyes than anyone’s as he spoke.

“As you know, I wasn’t always a drug lord, and I wasn’t always based in LA. About four years ago, Brian and I moved here from New York and started usurping local crime lords in the east, slowly building the empire into what it is today, though I say “empire” lightly.” He smiled, then glanced up briefly at his comrades before continuing to speak to his dog. “I got my start dealing prescriptions in college, when I sold off the rest of my Prozac to my dormmates. It wasn’t until I’d dropped out a year later that I really blossomed as a dealer.

“The drug lord in New York at the time was a man known only as The Pitbull. I started dealing heroin under him when I was 32. It’s where I met Brian.” Dan gestured over towards his silent friend, who nodded. “Brian was a bodyguard working for Pitbull. I showed an interest in martial arts, and he started to train me. After all, I needed to defend myself. If you think the squabbles among the dealers now is trouble, you should’ve seen the war I lived through each day. It was no wonder we were called The Dog Ring back then.

“After two years of dealing for him, I got some heat after messing Pitbull around, and I knew he was going to kill me. I asked Brian to help me flee, and he did. We stole the rest of what I’d made from dealing, plus a case of money meant to buy more heroin stock, and ran. I took the first flight I could get to LA, as far away from Pit as I could get. Brian gathered his family and followed soon after. The rest you know.”

“But, that doesn’t explain—” began Jack.

“Why do you think it’s him?” Ross interrupted.

Dan tapped the picture, his finger directly over the bush. “That. Butterfly. He…Pit. He called me “Butterfly.” That was my street name.” He sat back heavily as his head began to swim. It was getting to be too much for his addicted, weak body. With half an ear, he could hear Brian ushering Ross and Jack out of the room, and could tell they were alone when Princess shifted to allow Brian to come close. 

The older man’s cool hand drifted across his forehead. “You have a little bit of a fever.”

Dan nodded. “Just pull the curtains. I’ll be all right after some Adderall.”

“No,” Brian said sternly, even as he closed the curtains as bidden. “You’re going home.”

Dan snorted. “Says who?”

“Says me,” Brian scolded, appearing in Dan’s peripheral. The dazed drug lord turned towards him, blinking. “You’re feverish and starved. You’re in no shape to work the cash register at a retail store, never mind manage a drug empire.” He hesitated, then put a heavy hand on Dan’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Go home. Get some rest. Eat something. You need to get your strength up.”

Dan yawned, standing with some difficulty and reaching for Princess’ leash. The world spun for a moment, and then relaxed. He began to toddle towards the door, but looked back. “Brian?”

“Mm?”

“Can you call a car for me?”

“Certainly.”

“Bri?”

“Hm?”

“Can you…” Dan leaned his spine against the doorway, running a hand through his curls. “Can you…order food for me? I’ll forget to eat if it isn’t right in front of me.” He looked away, sheepish. “I…I don’t want…”

“I know, Dan,” Brian replied soothingly. “I’ll order some pancakes and eggs and have them delivered to you, all right?”

Dan nodded. “And some dessert, please?”

“Of course.”

“Hey, Bri?”

“Yes?”

“I’m scared.” 

Brian crossed the room. Dan sounded defeated and small, and that just wouldn’t do. He pulled his old friend into a hug. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, Danny,” he said, holding his boss tightly while Dan tried not to cry. “I swear it. Okay? I’m going to call Tank and have him and his best men come to your house tonight. They won’t let anyone get near you.”

Dan sighed shakily, nodding into Brian’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

‘All right,” Brian soothed. “The car’s here now. Go on home and get some rest.”

Dan nodded, smiling. He trusted Brian absolutely for a reason, after all.

~

When Dan arrived home, he was greeted by Tank, a burly black man with dreadlocks coiled like snakes around his shoulders. He was fluent in seven different martial arts, an experienced wrestler, and one of the smartest men in Brian’s crew. Because Tank worked closely with Brian, Dan felt safe having Tank nearby.

“Mr. Sexbang,” Tank said respectfully. Despite being told that no honorifics were required, Tank persisted in using them. He handed Dan an elegant glass vase full of flowers and a box of chocolates. “When I arrived, some scrawny twerp with a blonde streak in his hair was trying to leave these on the doorstep. I told him to get out and never come here again.”

Dan took the items, rolling the box over in his hand. It had the name “West Side Chocolatier” written on the back in fancy gold script. The front had what must’ve been the shop’s logo: a seagull nibbling on a life-size chocolate whale. “Anything else I should know about him?”

“He had a pink Lamborghini.” Tank replied. “A real weirdo if you ask me.” He frowned. “Do you think I should hand the chocolates to the Ninja for poison analysis?”

Dan shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I know who left them.” He smiled. “Thanks for coming at such short notice.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Sexbang. My pleasure, as always.”

“Oh, and one more thing?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Please don’t threaten the delivery man.”  
Tank laughed heartily. “Will do, sir. Have a good night.”

“Thanks, Tank.” Dan unlocked his front door and went inside. He set the items left by Arin on the side table, then let Princess off her leash. Luckily, Princess’ automatic feeder and water system were working perfectly, allowing him to focus on Arin’s gifts.

The chocolates looked to be a fancy assortment. Upon reading the paper listing what each chocolate was, he noticed a few of his favorite flavors: green tea, caramel, raspberry, maple syrup. There were also some common flavors: milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate. Luckily, no coconut, though. Dan smiled, popping the green tea chocolate into his mouth, humming with pleasure as the flavor traveled across his tongue. He hadn’t really felt hungry before, even on the edge of a faint, but the chocolate was helping. Dan carefully took a look at the flowers.

It had been hard to tell what they were, due to being embraced nicely by some kind of bright pink wrapping, but as he unraveled the paper, he noticed that they were roses. Powder pink roses.

As Dan ran his thumb down the stem, a thorn pricked his skin, causing a bead of red blood to rise towards the surface. Unbidden, a voice from deep in his memory floated into his ear.

“Come on, Butterfly. Help me fly.”

He could almost taste the crispness of new snow in the air, the chill of the night, the headlights of a car coming closer…

Stunned, Dan snapped back into reality, realizing that tears were trailing down his cheeks. 

His heart hurting, Dan picked up the roses, vase and all, and threw them violently into the kitchen trashcan.

The blood from his thumb had streaked on the glass.

“Butterfly, flutter by, high into the sky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit worried about Tank being a racist caricature. Somebody weigh in and let me know if he is. I promise it wasn't intentional.
> 
> I'm freaking out.


	8. Haunted Love

The taxi rumbled under his feet over the uneven ground. Dan looked up, watching the streetlights pass by overhead, their warm, buttery light making strange shadows fall across his knees. 

In his lap lay a dozen red roses, their smell clinging to his nostrils as he tried to keep them steady and unbroken. In his backpack, $30,000 in unmarked bills. It was supposed to be a payment for a shipment of heroin, but he wasn’t going to be going to the drop tonight. 

He knew the consequences. And he knew what he’d done. After all, he wasn’t as stupid as Pitbull probably thought he was.

The taxi pulled into the cemetery and Dan’s heart began to beat a little faster in his throat. The car had basically slowed to a crawl, and Dan shifted closer to the glass, peering out into the darkness. He was looking for a certain grave, one that he knew would stand out.

“There.” He pointed. “Stop here.”

The taxi driver grunted and parked the car in an annoyed sort of way. Dan kept an eye on the meter to make sure it was still running (more so that the driver wouldn’t pull away without him paying than noting the fare), and then climbed out.

The cold wind promising more snow immediately began to buffet his face. With one hand, he awkwardly pulled his Giants beanie down over his ears. The ends of his curling, soft hair tickled the back of his neck as he pulled his black parka around his chest and walked forward into the snow, his eyes set on the grave.

He knew it was hers because a bottle of merlot was standing silent vigil beside it, along with a memorial wreath. The day-old snow crunched underfoot, soaking into his sneakers. It had settled nicely around the base of the bottle, a small cluster gathered on the wax top. As he drew closer, a gust of wind blew some looser snow off the top of the gravestone.

Dan bent down a bit to brush some snow off of the engraving, feeling the indent through his gloves. He’d been to her funeral, though not officially. He’d been watching from the shadows, black umbrella up, as she was laid to rest.

If only he had seen. If only he had known.

But it was too late. She was gone.

Marilyn Monroe Johnson  
1980-2013  
She finally found her wings.

Dan couldn’t breathe. His chest ached, his stomach rebelled. Everything about this situation was wrong. He was shaking as he set down the roses, vision blurring and stomach churning like he was about to throw up. He pulled his arms back to his sides, shivering, suddenly much colder than he had been.

The wind was picking up and the smell of snow was in the air. Dan’s cheeks were ice, his tears like warm piss running down his leg.

He had miles to go before he could rest.

“I’m sorry,” Dan whispered, closing his eyes. “I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry.” Who was he apologizing to? After all, belief in heaven had always alluded him.

He turned away from the grave, feeling it staring him down, and returned to the taxi. “Newark Airport. And fast,” he ordered the driver. The taxi cab roared to life and rumbled off again, leaving Dan staring back at the grave, lost and alone in the world.

Again.


	9. Birth of a Swan

Thanks to Tank’s presence, Dan had slept soundly. However, after seeing the roses, little had remained of his appetite. Even though food had been delivered to his door, warm and comforting and smelling good enough to make Princess beg, Dan couldn’t make himself eat. Instead, he awoke with a raw stomach, so empty he was nauseous.

He ended up making a bowl of instant mac and cheese, a comfort food, and just about the only food he ever had in his house. It was enough to abate the nausea and keep his stomach from eating away at its lining, so therefore, he could justify going into work knowing that last night’s dinner had mostly ended up fed to Princess.

Decent breakfast or not, he wasn’t having an easy time. The Adderall withdrawal was making him twitchy, and despite having slept well, he found himself utterly exhausted after just two hours of desk work. He was in no shape to catch a killer, but at least he’d warned his dealers of the potential threat. A network-wide email had gone out urging the dealers to stay on their toes and be wary of suspicious persons and new faces. He hadn’t been specific. There was no way to tell how much, if at all, Pitbull had altered his appearance to throw Dan off.

He only hoped Duck would be the last to die.

Dan leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out above his head. He’d left Princess home today in the hope that without her, he might get more work done. But, he was missing her calming presence, and being without her didn’t seem to be doing much to improve his productivity. 

He sighed. Even though Arin’s roses weren’t appreciated, the chocolates were. The politeness he was raised to have implored him to thank Arin cordially. The hurt lover in him was telling him to wait for Arin’s next move. He wasn’t quite sure which side was winning.

Come to think of it, he didn’t even have Arin’s number. So the ball was technically in the other man’s court.

Dan was just about to give up on work for the day and go home to rest when there was a knock on the door. The drug lord sighed, trying to let go of any lingering irritation as he did so. He was not looking forward to any news from the streets. Tank had promised to send a relief for the guard shifts at his house, so if it wasn’t an update about that, he didn’t want to know what it was. “Come in,” he said sharply.

The door opened hesitantly, and Dan blinked. Now here was a face he wasn’t expecting. Namely because he wasn’t exactly sure how she’d found him. “Hello, Signe,” he said, sitting back. “Sorry for the cold welcome.” He cursed himself for dressing comfortably; the secretaries wouldn’t blink twice if he came in wearing plaid pajama pants, a soft tee shirt, and a fleece-lined gray hoodie (which was basically “street pajamas”), but he would’ve wanted to put on a better show for Jack’s girl. “What are you doing here?”

Signe was dressed a little more appropriately for the season in a flowy tank top and baggy “boyfriend” jeans in a light wash unevenly torn around the knee and rolled up, exposing her bare ankles that ended in light pink canvas shoes. Her wavy, dark hair momentarily obscured her big blue eyes as she eyed him, somewhat shyly.

Even though she’d stayed at this man’s house and looked after his dog, they hadn’t interacted much. She viewed him similarly to a very delicate museum artifact and, sitting in his big white bed in the center of a marble room, vacant and echoing, he’d looked very much like one, a mummified prince that would fall apart with a breath. She could tell he was in his element now, though he still looked small and pale in the emptiness of the formal office. 

She closed the door behind her, resting her weight against it, eyes watchful.

“You can come closer,” Dan said, smiling. “I don’t bite.”

Signe walked to the center of the room and stopped before his desk. “I followed Sean here,” she admitted, clutching her black bag close to her body as if she was afraid he’d take it. “I, um, I’m worried about him. He’s been working very hard lately.”

“He has indeed,” Dan replied carefully. “He’s one of my hardest workers. I appreciate that.”

“What is he…doing for you?” Signe asked. Her confidence was returning now that she could sense Dan wasn’t going to give her much trouble. “He never referred to you by name, doesn’t when I ask. He just says “Boss.” What’s so important that he doesn’t know your name?!”

“Of course he knows my name,” Dan scoffed lightly. “He probably just does that out of respect.”

“Bullshit.” Signe frowned. “The outside of this building looks like a hotel, and sure, there’s a front desk and all that. But I wandered around asking for the Boss, and it led me here. To you.” She took a breath. “When I…when I was in the hospital, recovering, Sean could pay our medical bills. If he was just a desk clerk or something, he wouldn’t have been able to afford that. And that mansion that I went to…and the dog…” Signe looked at her feet. “Why? Why could Sean afford all that? Why can you?”

Dan smiled wearily. He and Signe hadn’t talked much during his convalescence, but he’d been able to pick up on the quick wit she hid well behind a demure, feminine facade. That was a quality he appreciated in women. It was a quality shared by many of his female dealers and runners. “You seem to have a lot of questions.” He leaned forward, his eyes growing dark and dangerous. “Questions that, if you didn’t happen to be very dear to one of my men, could easily get you killed.”

Signe shivered, feeling the shift. Sean had told her his boss could be extremely dangerous when angry, and even dressed the way he was, too casually even for the son of a CEO to wear about the office, his dark eyes seemed emotionless and cold. Almost as quickly, they returned, and his eyes were suddenly soft, fuzzy and distant. It reminded Signe of seeing her little sister get high one time. 

Well, this was California. Weed was practically legal and easy to obtain. It didn’t really surprise her that he was a smoker.

But the other part of him, the part that wasn’t a calm, peaceful stoner…that part was the one that was in charge in this place, that kept Sean on his toes.

“D-don’t hurt him,” she begged. “Please! He didn’t know…!”

Dan tilted his head, wondering if it had really been the right course of action to intimidate her. He got up slowly, moving around the side of his desk until he was almost standing in front of her. “Hey, now,” he soothed, his voice low and soft, “don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you, or your man.” He waited until she looked up at him, and he smiled kindly. “I have to guard my secrets well, you know. I keep my company private, like I generally keep to myself.”

Signe bit back any tears that had been thinking about falling. Her eyeliner wasn’t waterproof, and she didn’t come here to cry, anyway. She wanted answers. “If you could kill me…are you mafia, or something?”

That made Dan laugh. “Do I really sound that Jersey still?” He sat back against the desk, unsteady on his feet. “I’m a Jew, not an Italian.”

“Happy Hanukkah?” Signe tried, smiling a little. The playfulness of him reminded her of Sean at his happiest, back when he’d thought about growing an online platform back in London. Sean was still like that, of course. Quick to joke around. Hopefully, she hadn’t misread the aura.

Dan grinned. “It’s not for several months yet, but thank you. And I don’t deal in contract killers.” He crossed his ankles. “I don’t like to kill people, but I will if they get in my way. You’re not too far off with mafia.” He bit his lip, deciding that maybe it was the right thing to tell her, since she was here anyway, and there was no denying it. “I’m a drug lord.”

Signe’s heart stopped. Drugs. So that was what had Sean so secretive. He never talked about what he did at work, not working odd hours per se, but always taking calls, talking in code. She’d thought it was worse than drugs, honestly. She was worried it was weapons or bodies. The thought of Sean being forced to kill…

“Do you need to sit down?” Dan asked, concerned. Signe was going very pale. “I can call for some water.”

Signe did her best to get her breathing under control. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She looked at her feet, taking it all in. “So…you’re a drug lord.”

“Yes.” Dan bowed. “They call me Sexbang. At your service.”

Signe’s lips curled into a grin. “That’s a stupid name.”

“Hey, it was almost Sweetnuts.”

Signe giggled. “So Sean…he deals drugs…?”

“Yes. Adderall.” Dan shifted, his long fingers falling over some files spread out on his desk. “I don’t require my dealers to tell me how many clients or regulars they have. I only deal in my cut of the money they make. Your beau happens to be my personal supplier, so he gets the luxury of some of my money that I feed into the system.”

Signe felt that she didn’t need to know that. No wonder Sean was so loyal to Sexbang. “He won’t be in danger, will he?”

Dan scratched his chin. “I don’t think so. Adderall is high in demand, and its addicted can get a bit mean, but he is highly valuable to me as an asset and a friend.” He looked Signe in the eyes. “I do my best to make sure my dealers are safe.”

Signe let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Good. That’s all I care about. I’ve been so scared of the police…and immigration…”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dan replied dismissively. “I’ve been doing what I can to keep them off your tail. I have a whole host of illegal immigrants working for me, and I keep them safe and pay them fairly. Of course you and Jack get the same treatment.”

Signe nodded. “I want to work for you.”

Dan raised an eyebrow. “Signe, I don’t think…”

“Please hear me out.” Signe pleaded. “I’m tired of letting Sean take care of me. He’s been struggling lately, and I want to help. If there’s anything I can do to help him, to help you, I want to do it.” She sighed. “Even before I knew all of that, I knew you were helping us. What employer protects their wageslave’s girlfriend?”

Dan thought a moment. “I don’t want you to run drugs for me, Signe. Jack would never forgive me, and with your injuries, I’d be afraid to let you into the line of fire like that. But,” he added before she could interrupt him, “if you really want to help Jack, then…I can set you up an appointment with Black Magic, the madame at the brothel.”

“Brothel…?” Signe shuddered.

“I’m thinking an escort role could be perfect for you.” Dan went on. “It would be up to Magic of course, but if you want to be monogamous, I think that’s the best option.” He leaned over his desk, opened a drawer, and produced a card, handing it to her. “There. The Madame’s calling card. If you show that to her desk attendant, you’ll get to see her right away.”

“Thanks,” Signe replied, taking the card. She smiled at him shyly. “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell Sean.”

Dan nodded. “My lips are sealed. Goodbye, Signe. Do you need help getting home?”

“I should be all right, thank you. Sean and I don’t live too far from here.” Signe waved. “Thanks again!”

Dan smiled at her as she left, then poked his head out the door. “Jewel, can you send one of the cleanup boys after her? I just want to make sure she gets back home okay.”

“Yes, Mr. Sexbang.”

“Thank you.”

With that, Dan headed home himself, making a call to his private car. He was thoroughly exhausted, and he still had some chocolates from Arin calling his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't watch Signe's channel at all, so this is a likely abysmal representation of her. I'm so sorry.
> 
> There's (possibly) some lightly offensive jokes. I kind of intended them to be jokes Dan might make himself, and they're not meant to represent my opinion.
> 
> I think people stopped reading this fic either because I abandoned it, or bcs Sean and Signe aren't together anymore. *shrugs*
> 
> For anyone still here, I appreciate you more than you know. I hope you'll see me through to the end. There's still one more novel in the trilogy to go!


	10. Lover of the Moon

Dan sprinkled the weed over the cigarette paper in front of him, packing it neatly in before he rolled the joint himself with clever, nimble fingers. It was nearly 3AM, and he couldn’t sleep. His bedroom was cold, and he was ravenously hungry without any desire at all to eat. The only sound besides the wind outside on the balcony was Princess’ snoring from where she lay spread out across the bed. Her snores were just one more grating sound that Dan could not endure.

Dan tapped the joint to make sure everything was packed correctly, then put it to his lips, clicking his lighter until a warm flame was produced. The drug lord lifted the joint expertly to his lips and inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs before letting it out into the room. 

Earlier that evening, Black Magic had come to him in a tizzy. She was furious, and rightfully so. Not only over his return to L.A., but also for sending her Signe.

“I think you’re insane,” she’d told him. “I think you’re insane to come back when you damn well know you are nowhere near healthy enough, and, better yet, you send me the intimate partner of one of your own men!”

“I know what I’m doing,” he’d reassured her. “She needs to feel useful. I could use someone on the inside. She’ll be safer with you and your girls, Suzy.”

The madame glared at him from under her perfectly manicured brows, but eventually calmed. “I hope you’re right, Avidan,” she sighed. “But I won’t be taking the fall iof her beau finds out.”

Dan raised two fingers in a parody of a salute. “Scout’s honor.”

Now, his room was quiet and still. Dan blew more smoke out into the room, sighing. It didn’t seem that long ago that he was living in New York under a different name, not in charge of an empire but a cog in the machine of another. Pitbull was ruthless and unkind, much like he tried to act towards his underlings. But it wasn’t who Dan really was. Pitbull, though, was like that through and through.

Dan got up, shivering, and walked towards his French windows, sliding the curtains aside. Down below, the cigarette of one of Tank’s men glowed in the pitch black of the early morning. Though he had guards outside his house, he still didn’t feel completely safe. He had done a far more serious crime than stealing, and Pitbull never forgave and never forgot transgressions against him.

Dan fell back against the wall, shuddering, the joint burning away between his fingers. It was a waste of good weed. He scrubbed his hand over his eyes, shaking. The fact that he was afraid, that he felt alone, that he had no one to reach out to…it was terrifying.

Well, he had Brian. But Brian had a family. Dan could only ask him to do so much.

The optimistic part of Dan, the part that still clung to his heart at the core of his being, told him that he had Arin. Arin had tried to hurt him, but Arin also had tried to apologize, and was still showing interest after Dan had shunned him. Arin still wanted him. Whether that was love or lust remained to be seen, but he was, at least, wanted by someone.

He was, at least, not damaged goods, discarded by Pitbull once he had no need of him. Maybe that was the reason…

Dan thought of the pink roses he’d binned days ago. Thought of the blood on his finger, streaked across the vase. Thought about a warm body turned cold because of his mistakes.

Pain and nausea replaced hunger, and Dan stumbled his way into the bathroom. Princess, waking up at his clumsiness, trotted after him, but Dan shut her out of the bathroom. He could only dry heave over the toilet, his stomach not even full enough to produce bile. Dan coughed and spat, but nothing was coming up his throat. He sat, defeated, joint dropped on the tile floor. 

Maybe at one point in his life, he’d have scrambled for it even now, desperate to be high, to…what? To forget? To escape?

Dan sighed shakily. No, he had to be better than that.

If he was afraid, there was a simple solution.

He’d start training once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...welp.
> 
> I want to finish this one so I can write the third book. The problem is, I only have a vague idea of where I want this to go.
> 
> *sigh*


	11. Rusty

Brian was leaning moodily against the wall when Dan exited the locker room. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, you know.”

“Duly noted,” Dan replied absently, putting in his mouth guard as he headed to the gym floor. One of his first purchases years ago was an old Taekwondo dojo, tucked in between two empty shops. It looked fairly unassuming from the outside, but the interior area was where Brian did most of his training.

Brian, after all, was a body guard first and foremost, and his training in self-defense came in handy when training the janitors and other guards like Tank. He’d taught Dan most of the martial arts he knew, and had helped the drug lord bridge gaps into other styles that he could pick up with the help of his former knowledge. At peak performance, Dan would train twice a week. However, the events connected to the murderer, Jon, and his subsequent health battles meant he was out of practice. Worse yet, that made him vulnerable.

As Brian followed Dan down the brightly lit polished wood hallway that led to the dojo’s main gym area, he contemplated the fact that it was commendable for Dan to want to resume his training, even in a weakened state. Though he had to admit that he knew the real reason.

The drug lord was afraid.

No one liked their past coming back to haunt them. And Dan had learned the hard way that working for a man like Pitbull wasn’t something one could easily recover from. 

Brian had called in a few of his janitors, who were generally experienced enough in Jiu Jitsu, the art Dan would be practicing today, not to seriously injure someone who wanted to train, but was out of practice. And possibly out of his mind, too.

“I don’t suppose you ate before coming here?” Brian frowned as he watched Dan pause at the glass door to the mat-clad room behind him to remove his socks. Princess, sitting on one of the elevated benches, wagged her tail as her master reappeared, her pink tongue briefly lolling out of her mouth.

Dan leaned over to scratch behind her ears and reached up to take out his mouth guard. With his hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of his head, away from his narrow face, he looked even more gaunt and much older than he really was. “I had half an orange and a glass of water,” he said in a long-suffering tone. “If I’m going to be thrown today, I didn’t want to vomit all over the mat.”

“I’ll kill him if he throws you,” Brian scowled from underneath his thick brows, ice blue eyes flashing dangerously. “He knows that.”

“I want him to throw me,” Dan argued, stretching his arms out above his head. “I’ve got layers on, don’t worry.” He was indeed wearing three rash guards layered one on top of the other. One was skin tight and seemed more like a bodysuit, as it disappeared below his waistline. This one had long sleeves, while the other two weren’t as tight and had short sleeves. With knee pads and simple headgear to cover his ears, he was a strange sight to behold, especially in the grappling shorts he was wearing, somehow making his legs look skinnier. 

Brian tsked, following Dan into the arena. “I still think you’re going to break a bone or pass out before you make it through a session.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Good to know you’ve got faith in me, Bri.” And with that, he put his mouth guard back in and nodded to his opponent.

Brian sat down on the ledge next to the window, his eyes half on the two sparring men and half on the street. The full length window was covered by dark curtains and blinds, but Brian had them cracked just enough to keep an eye out for any trespassers.

He had to admit that he was impressed with Dan for remembering several choke holds and how to grapple his way out of a situation. He couldn’t help wincing when the janitor threw him down on the mat harder than strictly necessary. As Dan rubbed his hip and back, Brian calculated the shortest distance from where he was sitting to the very obvious jugular vein popping out of the janitor’s neck. 

During the hour and a half training session, there were of course breaks for water. However, the breaks became more frequent as time went on. Dan’s head felt light, and he was beginning to feel nauseous as his stomach acids churned away at nothing. He was savagely hungry all of a sudden, and the water sloshing heavily in his belly wasn’t helping his concentration. Besides, if his head hit the mat one more time, he was sure that he would pass out. As the clock ticked to show thirty-one minutes to the hour, Dan had to admit himself defeated, and he sunk gratefully down beside Brian, the muscles in his knees, elbows, and wrists shaking incessantly as he sucked down the rest of his water.

“You did very well,” Brian observed warmly as Dan leaned his head against the back of the bench. “Better than I expected.” He waved his hand and the janitor bowed respectfully and left, giving them privacy.

Dan let out an exhausted breath, his chest heaving. “I…I wanted to go another h...hour,” he panted. “But I’m starving, and, look!” He held out his hand, chuckling as it shook in midair. “I’m c…crashing.”

“You’ll be fine.” But Brian took his pulse, anyway. It was racing against his thumb, but that was to be expected, after all. “Can you stand? Let’s get you showered and cleaned up.”

Dan closed his eyes, trying to even out his breathing. “Yeah…I wanna get outta these clothes. I feel...so gross.” He fanned himself with his hands absently.

Brian pulled the blinds closed and pulled Dan up from the bench, slinging one of the skinny man’s limp arms across his shoulders. “I’d draw you a bath,” he said, “but I think you’d just fall asleep.”

Dan nodded. “I just want to rinse off quickly and get some food.”

“Let’s do that, then,” Brian coaxed, gently leading Dan towards the showers. 

He sincerely hoped that Dan would keep his appetite. It was so easy for him to lose the will to eat.

~

The shower had done wonders for Dan. It soothed his aching muscles and warmed him to the core of his being. He was back in his ordinary street clothes, riding safely in the back of one of his unmarked cars, Princess taking up most of the room as she sprawled next to him in the back seat, her big head sat squarely on his neck, getting pet.

The drug lord scanned the world outside the car window with glassy eyes, acutely aware of the ends of his damp curls leaving wet spots on his tee shirt. Though he’d been starving while training, when his body was inactive, his appetite seemed to bleed away slowly, taking with it his will to eat, even though his empty stomach was gnawing at his insides, shifting like tectonic plates. The sound of it, the whines and groans it made in a feeble attempt to plea, fell on deaf ears. Dan was exhausted, and he only wanted to sleep.

However, as soon as he entered the old office building that was his new base of operations, he was accosted by Ross on his way out from picking up a shipment. 

“Boss,” the Australian looked apologetic, which was rare.

Dan’s eyes narrowed and he straightened his shoulders, trying to look intimidating. “Ross, what did you do?”

“It’s that guy from the West Side,” Ross replied, biting his lip, shifting around the messenger bag full of ecstasy digging into his shoulder. “I told him you weren’t in, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer and barged into your office.”

Dan sighed heavily. Well, at least it wasn’t something that could ruin his evening. At least…he hoped not. “Thanks, Ross. Stay safe out there.”

Ross smirked. “Will do, Boss. G’night.”

Dan clapped a hand on Ross’ shoulder and then, with a nod to his receptionist, ducked into the unassuming door that led to his office.

Sure enough, Arin was reclining in Dan’s chair, feet up on his desk. The young crime lord wore dark wash jeans and a bright pink shirt dotted with dark blue flowers. The short sleeves of the polo were rolled up on the ends and unbuttoned at the throat. He was whistling, his long hair tamed by a ponytail.

“You’re on my turf, Arin,” Dan growled. “Fucking act like it.”

Arin put his feet on the ground immediately, suddenly seeming much more anxious, and Dan felt himself softening like butter. Arin had mostly been keeping his distance, though he’d started sending Dan more small offerings, usually in the form of heartfelt letters that read as though he’d written them while drunk, as they tended to be full of flowery language and stunk of cologne. But he’d never come to see Dan in person.

Despite being still somewhat angry at him, Dan felt himself unwillingly charmed by this suitor, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“Sorry for coming here unannounced,” Arin said. “You haven’t been writing back.”

“I’ve been busy,” Dan lied. He’d really been spending a lot of time here, or at his home. Overseeing his empire, yes, but also trying to stay out of sight. He didn’t want to draw undue attention to himself, even though he suspected Pitbull knew full well what he’d been up to for the last four or five years, give or take.

“I was wondering if you might be in the mood for a more traditional date,” Arin offered, his cheeks tinting pink. The fact that he seemed shy was somehow endearing to Dan…but the drug lord forced himself to swallow his feelings. “We could go out to dinner somewhere quiet, with good food, if you’d like.”

Dan’s stomach growled and he half-fell against the door, his eyes fluttering closed. He heard Arin move suddenly, causing Princess to growl a warning. Even so, when Dan opened his eyes, Arin was closer than before, though far enough away that Princess couldn’t lunge at him without straining her lead. He smirked. Smart.

“Are you okay?” Arin asked.

Dan chuckled. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I said yes.”

Arin smiled, a brief flash of teeth. “Try me.”

Dan pushed himself off the door, shaking his head. “Perhaps another day.” He yawned, nearly tilting off balance again. “Food wouldn’t go amiss, though I’d rather not sit in a restaurant.”

“What if we get takeout?” Arin asked. “Your place or mine?”

“Your place sounds fine,” Dan replied. “But we’re taking one of my cars.”

“Why?”

“Two words: pink Lamborghini.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say Dan has a...complicated relationship with Arin right now.
> 
> I don't know anything about martial arts, so I just spent way too much time watching Jenna Marbles learning it from Julian. *shrugs eternally*
> 
> I'm so glad to hear that some of you out there are still reading and enjoying this! Did I...not update at all in 2018, or am I just going nuts?
> 
> My insomnia and this time change aren't playing nice together. I'm so tired y'all.


	12. Come Together

They ended up ordering pizza and Chinese food. Dan honestly felt a bit bad that he was hungry enough to want large portions, but Arin didn’t seem to mind, so the drug lord could easily shrug it off.

In a weird sort of way, it was a rather nice date. Dan had expected things to be awkward, but Arin was calm and polite, and he’d even offered to drive, which was something, even though he clearly wasn’t used to the limitations of the base model car that was a part of Dan’s small fleet. This one happened to be the next best thing to unmarked, as it had several different plates that were occasionally switched out to stay under the radar. This car was the one that usually went out of state, as his dealers ran errands across the country. Dan had to wonder if trying to expand his business had alerted Pitbull to his activity, even if he was only seeking suppliers outside of California.

The Chinese food was shoved into the back seat and the pizzas were sitting squarely on Dan’s lap, a three cheese and a meat lover’s. Dan sighed, sinking into the seat as the warmth from the food sunk into his thighs. It was weird enough that he was actually hungry, seeing as he’d barely managed an hour and a half of training, and he definitely wasn’t used to having any kind of appetite at all without smoking first.

“You okay?” Arin asked after a minute. “You’re zoning out.”

“Am I?” Dan shook his head to clear it. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m just hungry.”

“Kinda hard not to be,” Arin replied, chuckling. “Those pizzas smell so damn good.”

Dan chuckled, letting his head loll to the side, watching the city pass by out the window. In the back seat, he could hear Princess whining, nosing at the bags. “Hey,” he said sharply, “leave it.” Princess yipped at him, but obeyed.

“Whoa,” Arin said in awe, “that’s a well-trained dog. Where’d you get her?”

“Shelter.” Dan replied, sitting up awkwardly so he could contort his arm backwards to pat her flank. “Suzy found her for me. A perfectly well-trained guard dog.”

Arin frowned. “You need that? With that frickin’ Ninja guy around?”

Dan shrugged. “She helps me feel secure,” he says. It’s really all he can say, because he really can’t explain why Princess means so much to him. He hates to make the comparison, because really, he isn’t suffering half as much, but Princess almost feels like a guide or emotional support dog. He feels distinctly uneasy without her, and a cold sort of dread wells up in his belly every time she’s not beside him. It makes him feel weaker than the malnourishment, if he’s honest.

Arin parks the car outside his lavish mansion. Dan looks up at it with a sort of horrified awe that a crime lord, who should reasonably be adept at hiding and operating in the shadows, would dare to own something like this. The entry hall looks like a Greek or Roman plumbing system, with its ionic columns made of concrete standing watch like guards over the slim waterways. There’s a water source from somewhere in the ceiling that looks like it connects to the sprinklers in the garden, which sports several beautiful weeping cherries. Though they aren’t in full bloom anymore, their boughs are still weighed down completely with pink flowers, and the grass around them is coated with their petals. 

The walkway leading up to the house is rough cut marble, each paving stone unique. Dan nearly trips twice trying to handle the pizza and Princess both as they walk up to the door, his feet barely supported in thin running shoes. Arin’s arms are full with the Chinese, but he still manages to open and hold the door for Dan, who is by now trembling from lack of nourishment. He all but drops the pizzas onto the low coffee table and well and truly collapses on the first soft surface he can find, which happens to be a silky soft couch in a light milky tan color reminiscent of the color on the walls. This isn’t the first time he’s been to Arin’s mansion, but the fact that it is so unnecessarily lavish and ostentatious hits him every time. Everything about his training as a drug dealer and a drug user has taught him how to stay out of sight and look unassuming. Arin’s training fascinates and disturbs him.

“So, I don’t have any dog food,” Arin said, jolting Dan out of his thoughts. “I can Postmate some, though.”

“I can have one of my men pick her up,” Dan suggested, trying to keep his voice light even though the thought of being alone in this place without Princess by his side makes him feel like he’s had a dose too many of Adderall; twitchy and irritable, his heart about to burst out of his chest.

“It’s okay if she stays,” Arin said. Dan can’t see Arin, as the kitchen is around the corner, but he hears the familiar clatter of dry pet food being poured into food bowls. Princess’ ears prick up, but she remains where she is, her big head on Dan’s lap, Dan’s hand between her triangular ears. “I think I’ve got some leftover hamburger and chicken, if that works.”

“Yeah, I doubt she’ll know the difference.” Dan smiled warmly, scratching behind Princess’ left ear and watching her tilt her head into it, drool forming on her lips. “A big bowl will be fine for her. Thanks.”

“No problem.” The sound of a microwave being used and operated follow, with the buzzing and cheery beep of ready-made dinner following soon after. Princess finally goes to investigate, and Dan leans forward just in time to watch her bury her face in a medium sized Tupperware container full of leftover meat. Then, Arin appears, toting the Chinese, along with plastic utensils, two glasses for the soda they’d bought with the pizza, and paper plates. 

“What are you waiting for?” Arin grinned like a cartoon character. “Dig in!”

Despite his growing hunger, Dan is conservative with his portion size, taking two slices of cheese pizza and dumping two handfuls of lo-mein noodles onto the side of his plate. Arin’s portion is even more conservative, and Dan flushes pink when his stomach growls noisily in the quiet room.

Arin raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, digging into his own food instead. Dan’s grateful for it, honestly. He doesn’t want to talk or think about his poor eating habits, a result of the low appetite that is a drawback of frequent Adderall use. Instead, he wolfs down his portion as politely as he can.

Arin clears his plate quickly and turns to Dan. “You wanna watch something while we eat?”

Dan swallows a mouthful of noodles. “Sure. Like what?”

Arin beams. “You ever seen the old Sailor Moon cartoons?”

Dan shakes his head. “I always thought that anime was for girls. Is it any good?”

Arin feigns heartbreak. “I’m insulted, Dan. Just because something’s “for girls”,” he emphasizes the implied air quotes with a frustrated gesture, “doesn’t mean it’s bad! Here, check this out.” He fetches a remote from the side table and turns on the massive theatre screen sized TV in front of them. Dan reloads his plate and sits back, ready to be entertained if not by the show than by Arin, who is busy ranting about how great Sailor Moon is and how much he wants to be a magical girl. 

By episode two, Dan’s completely invested. By episode three, he’s lost track of how many pieces of pizza he’s eaten, and by episode five, he’s pleasantly full and relaxed in Arin’s presence. It’s amazing to him how magnetic and calming Arin is. He hasn’t forgotten the younger man’s clear issues with consent, but through the passionate ranting and jokes made about the poorer animation style of the first season, he can see Arin is trying, in his own way, to be contrite. And it’s touching to see Arin trying so hard to win him over.

They make it through most of the first season before Dan’s eyes begin to droop. Even after getting full, he’d continued to pick at the available food, snacking on fortune cookies and fried noodles and chugging soda. He’s actually properly sleepy, not just completely exhausted, and it’s kind of a funny feeling. He sinks deeper into the couch, half-listening to Arin try to explain one of the many plot points he’d missed. 

It feels like home in a way that hurts. He hasn’t felt so happy in a very, very long time.

So when Arin offers him the guest bedroom for the night, Dan finds himself saying yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a different ending for this chapter in my head, but somehow, it became cute and fluffy so...you're welcome, I guess?
> 
> ngl, staring at an uneven chapter number was driving me crazy.
> 
> I hope this is believable. I feel like the relationship stuff is going way too fast.


End file.
